February 2013

The Tournament of Books' nod to graphic novels comes with this entry: Building Stories by Chris Ware. I wasn't familiar with his work before this showed up on the ToB shortlist, but right after that, he did the post-Newtown New Yorker cover that I found very touching in an understated way. So I was ready to crack this open.

But, if you didn't already know, this isn't really a book. Or it's several books. In a box. With pamphlets and newsprint. When you open the box (pictured above), this is what you see:

Cut off the protective plastic, spread everything out, and here's what you have:

There are no instructions, no suggested navigation. Just a pile of varying types of print matter, all illustrated, some bound like books, some like newspaper, one like a Little Golden Book, one like a folded-up board game.

So that flummoxed me a bit, as I'm a traditional "start at the beginning and make my way to the end" type of reader. After dithering for a bit, I went back to the way the stories were packaged, and read them in that order.

It probably doesn't matter. They're not packed in chronological order. Most of the stories involve the inhabitants of a specific building, but as I got deeper into them, one character in particular took center stage. Her life as a single, lonely woman evolves as she eventually marries and has a child, moves to the suburbs, worries that she's losing herself, especially as an artist.

There are also a couple of stories about a bee. I found the bee annoying. I was much more interested in the people. Having been where the main character is, I found her story compelling, then wondered how I would have found her story back when I was post-college. Would I have found her narcissistic and boring? Probably. I saw a review on Amazon that complained about just that thing, and yet I found many of her stories really interesting and downright moving. There's one pamphlet that focuses on her, and there's no text at all, and it's not quite clear where it begins or ends (it's printed on both sides with no noticeable "start here" point), but it ended up reminding me of that amazing sequence from the movie Up, that tells the story of Carl and Ellie's marriage without a single word. I was moved, and that was surprising, given that overall I found the artwork kind of flat. Often I could only tell the characters apart by their hair color.

It's a mixed bag. Some things were successful, some not so much, and yet I found myself anxious to get back to it and start the next story, and found myself thinking about it after I finished it. The format, crazy as it is, seems to work with the story--how we live our disjointed lives, the different stages sometimes seemingly random in occurrence, parts of the past coming into the present unexpectedly, occasionally in a haunting kind of way.

I also found it interesting that the only blurb came in the way of a gold sticker on the exterior packaging, with a rave review from--can you guess? Who would you expect to blurb a literary graphic novel?

J.J. Abrams.

I don't think it'll last long in the ToB, but I applaud them for including it.

You guys, I just realized--we're almost done! I mean, I know that because I'm reading a print copy of the book, and my bookmark is close to the end. But I really realized it when I looked up the publication schedule to see how many chapters I had to read this week, and saw that after this set, there's only three weeks left! Dickens has a lot of ground to cover.

Which he does, in various ominous ways, in this section. I fear neither Caddy Jellyby nor her child are long for the world, even if Esther brings in Woodcourt and sees Caddy improving. Say what you will against Mr. Deportment, at least he shows up regularly and brings some cheer, as opposed to Caddy's mother, who--good heavens. There are just no words for that wench.

Oh, Ada--what were you thinking? I really do not see how that can end well.

Mr. George, your intentions are noble, and one can certainly understand your antipathy to lawyers, but you're in a very bad spot here, and you need help. Lady Bagnet to the rescue!

Mr. Bucket, I'd watch your step if I were you. And yet, I'm still not 100% convinced it's Lady Dedlock. Last week, Heidi commented that maybe it's the French maid. I hadn't considered that, but it's a distinct possibility, especially since she could dress herself as Lady Dedlock as a way of framing the latter, in revenge for being let go. And perhaps she's behind the flurry of two-worded letters to Mr. Bucket?

I loved this description of Mr. Bucket:

"Mr. Bucket and his fat forefingers are much in consultation together under existing circumstances. When Mr. Bucket has a matter of this pressing interest under his consideration, the fat forefinger seems to rise to the dignity of a familiar demon. He puts it to his ears, and it whispers information; he puts it to his lips, and it enjoins him to secrecy; he rubs it over his nose, and it sharpens his scent; he shakes it before a guilty man, and it charms him to destruction. The Augers of the Detective Temple invariably predict, that when Mr. Bucket and that finger are much in conference, a terrible avenger will be heard of before long."

Next week, chapters 54-56. This week's Gorey: Mr. Bucket observes Lady Dedlock on the stairs near the Wanted poster.

This is another "I have many good reasons to read this book right now" book. Like Wolf Hall, this has been sitting on the TBR pile for too long, and therefore qualified for the TBR Double Dog Dare. Like Wolf Hall, it's also the first part of a trilogy, and the second part (The Round House) is a finalist in this year's Tournament of Books. But what's more, The Round House is also the selection for the March Books and Bars. I understand The Round House reads fine as a stand-alone book, but dadgummit, when I have the first volume of the trilogy sitting around unread, there's no way I'm not going to read it first, then tackle the current volume.

As I write this, I'm trying to decide how I'm going to rate The Plague of Doves on Goodreads. There were parts that were so gripping, so involving and wonderfully written, that I would grade those parts 5+++++++. But then there were other parts that were not quite so gripping, or interesting. At times the book, which covers a great many characters, feels disjointed. It's also difficult, at least on a first read (for me, anyway) to keep track of the characters, many of whom are related in one way or another. The book follows multiple generations, to add to the confusion. A family tree would have been welcome. As one of the characters says, "Nothing that happens, nothing, is not connected here by blood." And yes, there are multiple layers of meaning in that sentence.

Still, overall I'd have to say I really liked this book and am anxious to read the next volume. Erdrich is really at her finest when she explores the lives of people on or near reservations in rural North Dakota. The town in question this time is the fictional town of Pluto, where a horrifying murder took place in the early part of the 20th century, for which even more horrifying "justice" was taken, and both these acts have ramifications through the generations. The stories are told to the younger folks by elderly Mooshum and his brother Shamengwa, who, trust me, are epic storytellers (and not above getting the local priest drunk, than saying things they know he'll consider sacrilegious) and are among my favorite characters.

A lot happens. There's the plague noted in the title; there's murder and kidnapping and infidelity and love; there's an amazing section devoted to the Kindred, a religious group gone awry (that's the part I'd give 5++++++ on Goodreads). And being Louise Erdrich, there's some great writing:

"The music tapped the back of our terrors, too. Things we'd lived through and didn't want to ever repeat. Shredded imaginings, unadmitted longings, fear and also surprising pleasures. No, we can't live at that pitch. But every so often something shatters like ice and we are in the river of our existence."

She also does a fantastic job chronicling the decline of this small, rural town:

"We are still here because to sell our houses for a fraction of their original value would leave us renters for life in the world outside. Yet however tenaciously we cling to yards and living rooms and garages, the grip of one or two of us is broken every year. We are growing less. Our town is dying."

Well then. We've arrived at the final quarter of the book, and Dickens appears poised to really start having things happen. This section is full of sad things--Jo's death (sniff) and Mr. George's arrest for the murder of Mr. Tulkinghorn. I have to admit I love the whole lead-up to Tulkinghorn's death. I figured out fairly quickly what was about to happen, but Dickens was on a roll:

"Not only does the stillness attend it as it flows where houses cluster thick, where may bridges are reflected in it,where wharves and shipping make it black and awful, where it winds away from these disfigurements through marshes whose grim beacons stand like skeletons washed ashore."

But while I'm 99% convinced Lady Dedlock committed this murder, there's 1% of me that isn't so sure. I don't for a minute think Mr. George did it. Certainly he was no friend of Tulkinghorn, but overall he's too honorable. Yet Lady Dedlock letting her maid go so that she wouldn't be tainted by an upcoming scandal, and knowing the Tulkinghorn plans to tell Sir Leicester--yes, that's plenty of motive, but at the same time, I got the impression she let Rosa go because she knew her hidden life was about to be revealed and shock all good society. She doesn't seem surprised that Tulkinghorn is going to reveal the secret.

So...did she murder him on a moment's whim? Did she perhaps see who murdered him (because it seems like Tulkinghorn would definitely have more than a few people who'd like to see him dead)?

And wasn't his death a pointed contrast to poor Jo's? Jo had so very little in his life, but at least he died a safe death in a place where people tried to care for him and wanted him to live. Unlike Tulkinghorn, who was no friend of Jo's, and who was shot in the back.

I knew that Bucket was coming back to haunt us. What a creep, sitting there at the birthday party, pretending all is well, when he's just biding his time before arresting Mr. George.

That said, the birthday party was a much-needed bit of levity in this section. Poor Mrs. Bagnet, with that hideous meal! She knows they're trying and they think they're doing well, but no question she'd rather do it herself.

Next week, chapters 50-53 (and I peeked and see that Esther returns). This week's Gorey: Roman looking down at the corpse of Mr. Tulkinghorn.

Oh, Esther, Esther, Esther. Girlfriend, you are breaking my heart. I can't believe I used to not like you very much. Now all I want is for Woodcourt to declare his undying love for you and that he still finds you beautiful and to stand up to his snobby bitch of a mother and sweep you away. I mean, not that John Jarndyce is a bad match. Not at all. But you're settling. You're the poor little orphan who can't confess to the world who her mother really is, and your face is all wrecked, and you have no inheritance, and and you're doing your damnedest to rescue Richard who just won't come to his senses, and you're lucky and pathetically grateful for the scraps life is giving you. Granted, they're better scraps than many others have gotten (Jo!!). But still.

Interesting timing on Jarndyce's proposal, right after Esther tells him who her mother is. Is he up to something, or is he just trying to protect her?

OMG, Skimpole's family is the most pathetic brood ever.

And who stole Jo away from Bleak House??? Tulkinghorn? Mr. Guppy? What do you think? Nice cliffhanger this time.

I liked many passages this week:

Skimpole's home: "It was dingy enough, and not at all clean; but furnished with an odd kind of shabby luxury, with a large footstool, a sofa, and plenty of cushions, an easy-chair, and plenty of pillows, a piano, books, drawing materials, music, newspapers, and a few sketches and pictures." I'm thinking Pottery Barn should start up a line of Skimpole Shabby Chic. But I suspect Pottery Barn would demand money upfront for the products.

"Mr. Vholes remained immoveable, except that he secretly picked at one of the red pimples on his yellow face with his black glove." Nope, Dickens didn't have to get overly fancy with his description, just some nice use of basic colors, and we've got all we need.

The paragraph that really broke my heart:

"And in [Woodcourt's] last look as we drove away, I saw that he was very sorry for me. I was glad to see it. I felt for my old self as the dead may feel if they ever revisit these scenes. I was glad to be tenderly remembered, to be gently pitied, not to be quite forgotten."

Oh, Esther!

Chapters 47-49 for next week. This week's Gorey: Esther burns the flowers Woodcourt had given her and she'd dried.

Aw, man, I *so* was looking forward to this book. I've been a big fan of Homes for a long time, loving Music for Torching and This Book Will Save Your Life. I've hugely appreciated her dark humor and willingness to go dark places. I can't say I likedThe End of Alice, but I deeply respected her bravery as a writer for going there. So when Viking sent me a review copy of May We Be Forgiven, I was delighted.

Until I read it. There are moments of Homes' dry wit and dark humor that made me smile, but unfortunately there were many more moments when I was rolling my eyes and groaning.

It's the story of Harold Silver, who has always been in his brother George's shadow, until George commits a horrific act of violence that change Harold's life forever and brings him into constant contact with his niece and nephew. So, yeah, between the plot description and the title, you can probably figure out we've got a bit of a redemption tale going on. But what we also have is a book that tries to be so many other things. At nearly 500 pages, it's packed full: boarding school shenanigans, elder care issues, the plight of a remote South African village, bar mitzvah planning, suburban sexual escapades, political intrigue, and a subplot in which Harold, a historian and history professor, is writing a book about Richard Nixon, a man he loves.

It's just too much. I haven't given spoilers in terms of what the act of violence entails, but let's just say that it's plenty to build a book around. Adding all the rest is just filler. And worse, it's "clever" filler. At times the humor is so strained, as if the author feels like she needs to be funny but can't think of a good way to do so.

Even worse are the racial stereotypes. Maybe Homes is playing with them to make the reader uncomfortable and to address how we perceive different ethnicities. Well, she made me uncomfortable all right, but more because the Asian people are wincingly stereotyped, and good heavens, the trip to South Africa is just cringe-worthy. As someone on Goodreads noted, there's an appearance by a Magical Negro, and let's not overlook the benevolent role the white people play for the South Africans. Someone else on Goodreads pondered whether or not Homes used this novel as a way to write off a vacation to South Africa. I can't say I find that idea far-fetched.

I don't get the appeal of this book. Maybe it's because I wasn't raised reading myths and didn't study them in high school or college, so they're not really part of my frame of reference. I mean, yes, I know about them in a very surface way, and I know they're the foundation of much literature, and I have read some of them. I haven't read The Odyssey or Iliad. It's a big gap in my reading. I know that.

But I found myself yawning over and over again while struggling through The Song of Achilles. Girl Detective compared it to Brokeback Mountain, but while I found the latter (both movie and short story) to be compelling and complex, Achilles just seemed--I dunno. Meh. While the two men in Brokeback Mountain were fully fleshed out characters (no pun intended), Achilles and Patroclus just seemed like "types" to me. Achilles is Mr. Perfect, part-God, everything he does is righteous and just and he's this uber-cool warrior dude and he's kind to Patroclus when no one else is, and they fall in love, yadda yadda yadda. Of course Patroclus would love him. Achilles is the only person who's paid him any positive attention for most of his life.

I guess what I needed was for Achilles to be more of a flawed man. His father was mortal, so that could have been. As it is, I just didn't really care about the outcome and struggled to finish.

If I was surprised last week at how much I enjoyed a section devoted entirely to Esther, then this week was a sense of disappointment of not having any contact with her. Which is not to say I didn't like this section--it's just that I'm engrossed in her story and am saddened to be pulled away from it.

Vholes is awful in a quiet, insidious way. Oh, Richard. You would do so much better to take counsel from Mr. Jarndyce and Esther.

What's up with Tulkinghorn's little show at Chesney Wold? Why would he not just go to Lady Dedlock directly with his insinuations? It sounds as if he might blackmail her, and then he turns on the dreadful Hortense when she tries to blackmail him. I am not clear on Tulkinghorn at this moment.

There were many lines I marked as delightful. Regarding Vholes: "He never misses a chance in his practice; which is a mark of respectability. He never takes any pleasure; which is another mark of respectability. He is reserved and serious, which is another mark of respectability. His digestion is impaired, which is highly respectable."

And:

"All the while, Vholes, buttoned up in body and mind, looks at him attentively. All the while, Vhole's official cat watches the mouse's hole."

The gorgeous piece at Chesney Wold, looking at the artwork devoted to generations of Dedlocks:

"But the fire of the sun is dying. Even now the floor is dusky, and shadow slowly monts the walls, bringing the Dedlocks down like age and death. And now, upon my Lady's picture over the great chimney-piece, a weird shade falls from some old tree, that turns it pale, and flutters it, and looks as if a great arm held a veil or hood, watching an opportunity to draw it over her. Higher and darker rises shadow on the wall--now a red gloom on the ceiling--now the fire is out."

Volumnia, with "a mouth of false teeth like a pianoforte too full of keys."

This week's Gorey, of Lady Dedlock after her private consultation with Tulkinghorn. Next week, chapters 43-46.